Steps to Stagnation

Page 16 of Thursday’s Today newspaper carried two articles on Malaysia. These articles suggest that the political leadership of Singapore’s northern neighbour is closing itself off to new influences. Yet without the new, there is no growth.

In ‘Speak less English: Minister”, Deputy Education Minister Mohd Puad Zarkashi was reported to have discouraged the use of English in favour of Bahasa Malaysia. In particular, he called upon private sector employees to use Bahasa Malaysia to show pride in the national language, instead of using English 99 percent of the time. He also insisted that national leaders use Bahasa Malaysia for all meetings and events, and returns letters written in English with requests to have them rewritten in Balasa. His main argument was essentially to ‘strengthen the position of Bahasa Malaysia’, which implies the reinforcement of a current Malay-centric culture.

Bahasa Malaysia may be a national language, but it is not the preferred language. In the same way, while English may be the de facto national language in the United States or Britain, ethnic minority groups may choose to conduct their lives in their ancestral tongues of Chinese, Japanese, Korean, Russian, Yiddish, or any of a hundred other tongues. That is because people are comfortable communicating in those languages as opposed to English. In states like Denmark, Switzerland, and the Netherlands, several languages are taught, usually the national language, the English language, and one other.

Language is first and foremost a means of communication. It allows two or more people to express what they want, and to understand what the other party or parties want/s. Bahasa Malaysia is a language. But it is also linked to the construct known as the Malaysian identity, through its codification in the law.

Notice I used ‘construct’. That is because prior to the Second World War, there was no Malaysian identity. The British used this to their advantage to colonise Malaysia. This identity was created as part of the post-WWII Malaysian nationalist movement, in an attempt to unify the country. This movement defined the Malaysian identity through several symbols, such as a flag, national anthem, and national language. In effect, Bahasa Malaysia is a political tool as well as a language.

Two people speaking two different tongues cannot effectively communicate. A South African who insists on using only Afrikaans can never get his point across to a Frenchman who has vowed to use only extremely formal French. Language unites people who speak the same language, and divides people who speak different languages.
By encouraging the use of Bahasa Malaysia, and downplaying the use of English, the good Deputy Minister is effectively asking Malaysians to reject other cultures, and stick strictly to a Malaysian identity.

If Malaysia were a person, you would call Malaysia a schizoid. A schizoid is a person who lacks interest in social relationships, tends towards a solitary lifestyle, and displays emotional coldness. The psychologist Harry Guntrip would add narcissism and a sense of superiority, among other traits, to the list.

Being a schizoid in an increasingly interdependent world is a severe disadvantage. Lacking the ability to connect to people means a lack of communication skills, and a lack of communication skills means being severely disadvantaged in areas like job applications, projects, or simply telling someone that you are not interested in that person without inviting a stab in the back in the future.

The irony of reinforcing Bahasa Malaysia is that it works against Malaysia. Malaysia is not a country of Malays alone. Malaysia has ethnic Indian and Chinese citizens, for example, and they are just the largest. Bahasa Malaysia is linked to the Malay identity more than the Malaysian identity, because Bahasa Malaysia derives its roots from the Malay language. Indian and Chinese citizens, coming from different ethnolinguistic backgrounds, are disadvantaged in the learning and use of language compared to a Malaysian Malay whose ethnolinguistic background and identity is intertwined with Bahasa Malaysia. It is therefore easier for a Malaysian Malay to learn and use Bahasa Malaysia than a Malaysian Indian or Chinese citizen.

By favouring Bahasa Malaysia, the Deputy Minister is sending a subtle message, consciously or otherwise, deliberately or not, that he is favouring the Malays of Malaysia. That he is himself a Malay merely adds weight to this message. Should minority citizens choose to interpret his words this way, the ruling government will lose more favour in the eyes of the people. That, I would think, is probably more important to Kuala Lumpur than any perceived harm to the construct known as the Malaysian identity.

In ‘Muslim preacher charged with giving lecture’, Muslim scholar Asri Zainul Abidin was arrested for delivering a religious lecture without a permit. Asri, the former mufti of the state of Perlis, has pleased not guilty, and has called his arrest ‘selective persecution’.

This hyperlink contains some more information not covered in Today. In effect, the Selangor state religious authority, JAIS, allegedly allowed all muftis to lecture in Selangor except Asri, in the days when Asri was a mufti himself. Asri himself was a controversial figure, who among other things criticised what he called overzealous efforts by Islamic authorities to crack down on what is termed ‘immoral behaviour’.

A mufti is the highest-ranking official appointed to advise a state ruler on Islamic laws, and therefore has a great deal of influence in religious matters. From this admittedly one-sided account, it suggests that JAIS is attempting to suppress Asri’s influence on the youth of Selangor with regards to their attitudes towards Islam and morality.

Here is some background. Malaysia has a justice system with civil and religious courts. The civil courts cover ordinary crimes, ranging from theft to murder and everything in between. The shariah courts have jurisdiction over Muslim affairs. Religious enforcement officers, also known as the religious police, are deployed to enforce shariah law. In practice, the religious police are authorized to conduct raids on premises to search for Muslims of the opposite gender who have committed khalwat, which means ‘close proximity’, for Muslims who have consumed alcohol in nightclubs, and other such matters. Asri was arrested by 35 religious enforcement officers and 25 policemen. The district police chief claims that the police merely assisted in the raid, and he had no idea that Asri was involved.

These actions do not bode well for Malaysia. This article reinforces the belief that suppression of controversial religious ideas is part of official policy, if only at the state level. Previously, the Malaysian government came under fire for persecuting members of the Sky Kingdom sect and hampering efforts to convert out of Islam, among other actions. Such a perception, in the long term, will make Malaysia appear to be an increasingly reactionary Muslim state, which tends to worry non-Muslims, especially those interested in investments, business, and tourism in Selangor. In addition, the statement released by the police chief suggests a lack of professionalism: he is effectively saying that the department lacks official oversight when its officers are attached elsewhere. This decreased confidence in the police department will again have a negative impact on the perception of the state, and perhaps the country.

These two articles suggest that closing off minds and channels of communication are harmful to a country. Favouring a specific culture within a country will alienate minority groups. Cracking down on a popular if controversial religious scholar who preaches liberal values will alienate people who do not believe in the values driving that act. Closing off hearts and minds to new influences leads to stagnation and backwardness.

How does a muscle grow? Exercise. By working against an external weight repeatedly, and increasing the weight over time. How does a mind grow? Through stimulation by outside events. The first step to growth is by accepting and grappling with external events, be it the start of a weightlifting program, a commitment to the discipline required in the military, or a foreign policy review that entails partnership with former rivals. Singapore became the country it now is because of its acceptance and adaptation of Western ideas of government, economy and trade; Chinese concepts of hard work and meritocracy; and a fairly internationalist approach to international politics, meaning working with other countries for mutual gain. Openness to new influences spurs dynamic changes and evolution that causes growth.

What happens if you don’t exercise? Your muscles wither. What happens if you deny your brain sensory input? Mental illness and death. Countries that close themselves off to foreign influences tend to be failed states. History is replete with them: the USSR, Myanmar, North Korea, Imperial China. Without new influences, there is no impetus for growth or change. A policy that closes off the country to new ideas and influences from within and without closes off the country’s capacity for growth.

Without the new, there is no growth. By advocating the closing off means of communications via use and disuse of language, and by attempting to control ideas on religious conduct, certain Malaysian authorities seem prepared to close off Malaysia to new ideas. They are also setting up Malaysia for stagnation. Time will tell if this is but a temporary stage, but as long as the ruling Barisan Nasional holds power and the opposition parties remain silent, I am not going to hold my breath.

Mono no aware

One year and ten months has come down to this day.

I packed my kit, checked for the last time that I'd taken everything with me. Submitted the necessary paperwork, signed the requisite blanks. Received the NSman's severance package of a handbook and his identification card. Exchanged a couple of perfunctory, permanent goodbyes.

Gathered my things. Left the camp alone. Didn't look back.

Should I be happy? Those who have gone before me think so. It's the end of burden, the end of authority, the end of harsh training, the end of duty. So it is. It is also the end of the worst, and the end of the best.

With liberty comes responsibility, the responsibility to use it well. I have literally nothing to look forward to. No place in any local university or tertiary institute, no job, no recommendations, no next step charted well in advance. With nothing in the future comes the necessity to shape that future to one's will. Alone. I alone amongst my peers am in this position. Pardon if all I see is the exchange of duty to country for duty to self, relations, and ever-widening social circles.

You know what it's like to leave the military? You've got look after your health now because the Army isn't going to force you to exercise any more, or provide meals that are supposed to conform to dietary guidelines. You've got to shape up your finances because you're not drawing any more money from the military. You've got to live your life because nobody is going to guide it for you any more. And almost nobody is going to care what happens to you after you leave.

Oh, and three years from now, nobody at your camp is going to remember you. Your bunk and bed and locker would be taken by someone else, or just left abandoned. Whatever kit you may have returned would be recycled and re-issued to someone else, or left alone. Every NSF who knows of you would have completed his full-time NS liability, and gone on to other things. The regulars, most of them anyway, would be posted elsewhere, and those who remain would deal with so many other servicemen that your place in their minds would be abdicated for someone else. Soon, sooner than you think, there'll be no trace of you left in that camp.

The friends you've made? The kit you took back? These are probably the most permanent external reminders of what you've done. But one day, after the National Service cycle is complete, you won't need your kit anymore, and they'll languish in a forgotten corner or be consigned to the trash. Your friends, most or all of them will one day travel different paths, never to be seen again outside in-camp trainings and occasional coincidental meetings.

There's nothing you can do.

But this is how things will be. This is the transience of things, and everything, too, will pass.

So what is left? Myself. The photograph on my IC is different from the one on my military identification card, known as an 11B. When I look in the mirror, the reflected face is dissimilar from the one on the 11B. Older now, not necessarily wiser. I remember the forge of training, of the exposure to the face of the warrior archetype. I remember the hammer of experience, of adapting to overcome the situation. I remember the wear and tear of hard use, of various injuries and illnesses and occasional destruction and damage of property. I remember the sharpening and polishing, of midnight work and long late meetings and training and doing. Somewhere along the way, I know now, they have made me who I am.

NS is just the latest influence on my life, the most powerful one so far. But I have miles to go on my path, and surely new challenges and obstacles. Perhaps one day my NS experiences and their impact may be overriden. Perhaps built upon. But not stagnate, not be regulated to a single event with a single influence which can be safely ignored. The present is defined by the past, and when NS lies in the past, my future present 'I' will not ignore or forget it. I cannot.

That's all right, isn't it?

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Author's note: Mono no aware is a Japanese term. Loosely translated as 'the pathos of things' or 'empathy towards things'. It's usually defined as the recognition of the transience of things, and a bittersweet recognition of this fact. Personally, I prefer the definition 'the sadness of being human'.

Human Nature, as Observed on a Train

A little over an hour ago, I tried to catch the next train home. The train had come in when I had arrived; a throng of people were slowly flooding in. “Please move in!” a station employee called out, guiding them with his hands. When the mass of people finally moved in, I tried to board the train. But the front entrance was plugged up with people. The rear entrance was similarly sealed off. When I peered into the windows, I saw a most astonishing sight.

The centre of the car was completely empty.

Nature abhors a vacuum. Yet osmosis has clearly failed here. The employee waved his hands, exhorting the people to move in. Pleading, almost. Other commuters stopped outside the car, waiting for a chance to board. Inside, I saw faces turning away, eyes going blank, mouths closing shut. Others had more subtle expressions, their gazes narrowing to filter out an ever-increasing number of people from their field of view, and therefore field of thought. The press of passengers remained still.

Neurons fired, words formed, and my lips began to open. Then the doors closed, and the train moved off. As it passed me by, I saw just two people standing in the middle of the train, staring out at the platform, their gazes washing out the other would-be commuters.

No, I’m not angry. Or disappointed. Or disgusted. Or wrathful. Just curious. Why did the passengers not move towards the centre of the car, allowing more people to board the train?

So, now, I shall attempt to work it all out.

Let’s look at the employee. He had all the hallmarks of an authority figure. He was wearing a distinct uniform and carrying a handheld radio. These are symbols of power. His uniform and role may not be as recognized as that of a soldier or a police officer’s, but the symbols he wielded should be sufficient to show to the average person that he is in a position of authority to accomplish a task, and thus induce obedience. In fact, if you give a man a lab coat and a clipboard and tell everybody around him that he’s a scientist in charge of an experiment, everybody will treat him as such. The Milgram experiment proved this conclusively.

But counting against the employee, I think, was his manner of speech. He was facing the front rank of passengers, who were just about squashed into the train, and did not gesture at anybody. The human brain can seek to interpret the employee’s words as directed towards the passengers near the mouth of the car, not the ones at the rear. So, the people at the rear can feel that they are not being asked to move, and so feel no pressure to move -- even though they are the only ones with the space to move, and are the cause of the situation.

Furthermore, the employee used a gentle, polite tone of voice. Such a strategy tends to work in a one-on-one basis, when the other party has shown an inclination to listen, and when you want to interact with that person. But, in this case, you aren’t seeking an interaction. You’re seeking compliance.

Police officers are trained to order suspects to surrender through shouts, simply-worded orders, closing in on all sides, and visual and auditory distractions. This much sensory input overloads the brain, closing off its ability to think, and pushing the suspect into choosing the choice that is repeatedly being presented to him: surrender.

Policemen don’t say ‘Please put the weapon down’. Not unless they are dealing with the mentally unstable and believe that doing so could convince the subject to do so. They say ‘Put your weapon down’. They may tag on a ‘sir’ or ‘ma’am’, but the tone and the underlying message is the same: Do as I say. The word ‘please’ tends to detract from this effect and mitigate this message, which is why one uses it out of respect for one’s superiors.

But in this situation, the word ‘please’ softens the message to the point where the intended audience, already buffered through what are essentially human shields, can again choose to ignore the message. End result: some people get left behind on the platform.

The employee should have gestured at the people at the rear, or otherwise indicate that he was addressing them. Doing so strips away the illusionary distance between the audience and the speaker, making it more and more difficult to ignore the message. He should also have used firmer, blunter, and more direct speech, to further impress his will upon the intended audience.

Now, let’s consider the people in the train. In particular, the people at the outer fringes of the plugs of people, the ones who could have simply moved in. Is there a cost in moving? No. The energy expenditure of taking a few steps is negligible for the average healthy human being, and the people in question were healthy human beings -- at least healthy enough to walk. Is there a benefit in staying? No. One spot in a train is as good as another.

Can we chalk this up to the inertia of stillness? With no real costs pushing a person into moving, nor any benefits to pull his feet into motion, it’s simply easier to stay still. Up to a point, yes. But let’s go deeper and talk about where this inertia came from.

There is a specific neuron in the brain known as a ‘mirror neuron’. This neuron fires when an animal does something, and observes the same action performed by another. This is generally useful: it forms the foundation of empathy, and is a survival trait. When you see someone smile genuinely, your mirror neurons fire, and you tend to break into a smile too. This generates rapport between the both of you, bringing you that much closer. Likewise, when you see a group of people flee, your neurons fire, and you tend to run with them too -- better to be wrong than to find out at first hand just how sharp a tiger’s claws can be.

So, say you are standing in a train car. Around you, people are standing around, not moving. Your mirror neurons tell you that there’s no need to move, and that it’s best to stay still. That’s what everybody else is doing, after all.

Those same neurons, however, don’t tell you that the people can’t move because you are blocking the way. Another part of the brain is responsible for that. So far, it seems, the collective voice of the mirror neurons seems capable of drowning out that of the part of the brain that tells you that maybe something is wrong with this picture. That’s if the latter is actually activated in the first place. It’s so easy to filter out that dissenting part of the brain when the mirror neurons are loud and clear, and when that man in the green shirt on the platform isn’t really talking to you.

That being said, I don’t think the explanation can stop here.

Everywhere else I have been and have seen or read of, the public transportation system doesn’t suffer from this loophole in this law of nature. People tend to move towards the centre of the car, bus, whatever they are riding on. So far, only Singapore seems to suffer from this problem.

Why?

Let’s think about motive. Why would a person want to stay near the entrance of a train car or bus? I would imagine that doing so would facilitate one’s exit from the vehicle when one arrives at one’s destination. While doing so inconveniences other people from boarding, there remains a significant number of people who are not inconvenienced by that notion.

Why?

I don’t know. I actually don’t know. I would think that some of the people who choose to do this tend to be more self-centred than average, placing their personal needs and wants above those of others. I would also think that the rest are just plain ignorant of their actions, and/or choose to deny the consequences of not moving in -- after all, it doesn’t affect them personally, and people are moved into action by what affects them personally.

Why?

If this were part of human nature, then we would have seen this overseas. But I have not, and neither have my contacts and research material. So all this must be part of something inherent in Singapore. The only explanation I can think of lies in the culture that is ingrained in us -- the mindset that we are encouraged to adopt by the people around us.

Every Singaporean knows of kiasi and kiasu, the twin pillars of Singapore culture and behaviour. The former is being afraid of death, though it tends to mean being afraid to take risks, such as writing an essay that may lead to a few quiet people knocking on your door at midnight. The latter, literally translated as ‘fear of losing’, is to be afraid to miss a future perceived gain, be it the most delicious food at a buffet or a seat in a foreign university. I use ‘perceived’, because the person perceives that the object of desire is seen as good -- but it may not be.

What this suggests is that we live in a culture that aims to defend and inflate the ego. By refusing to take risks, one’s ego need not experience failure. By seizing at everything that comes one’s way, one’s ego need not worry about regret. Mirroring encourages this behaviour, as everybody imitates everybody else in a strange kind of empathy, building upon and reinforcing this culture.
And by being so wrapped up in defending the individual ego, one can ignore the humanity of others.

By refusing to take risks, one refuses to push one’s limit and grow as a person, or achieve one’s goals, or make progress. Everybody said that Singapore would not survive as an independent nation until the government took a risk on Albert Winsemius’ economic strategy post-independence. By refusing to pass on a future perceived gain, one distorts one’s view of the world, and potentially harms oneself and others. After the First World War, the French sought revenge upon the Germans through the Treaty of Versailles, thoroughly wrecking the German economy, decimating the military, reducing German territory -- and inflaming German anger, which Adolf Hitler used as a base to gain power and support.

Over-emphasising the ego leads to ignoring other people’s needs and wants -- and one does so at one’s peril. In the case of France, when the cries for revenge were finally silenced, that was because many voices had gone still. By blocking entrance into the train now by just standing around, one encourages others to do the same -- and you might just get caught in a similar situation.

Let’s go back to the train. Why do people stay as close to the exit as possible? To minimise the time spent leaving the train -- which suggests that there is a cost involved in not leaving the train on time, and a benefit in leaving quickly. Here is kiasi and kiasu for you: people don’t want to risk missing their stop, and want more time to do whatever they want to do, so they stay as close to the exit as possible. Never mind that a few extra seconds moving from the centre of the train to the exit is insignificant, and that letting people board the train would allow them to continue their journeys smoothly (and avoid blog posts like this one).

Overly cynical view of the world? Maybe. But, unless proven otherwise, and until a sociologist finally investigates this phenomenon, this seems to be the most reasonable explanation for the train passengers’ behaviour.

So what can be done about this? This situation involves elements that are both external and internal. The external elements are supplied by figures of authority (and, to a lesser extent, posters and announcements). The internal aspects are the motivations and mindsets of passengers.

The external aspects are easy to change. Staff should be trained to communicate clearly, especially when addressing crowds like this. Posters and announcements should be re-crafted, such that their message sticks. How the latter could be done is best left to experts who dare to take on the challenge of communicating in a space where information is routinely filtered out.

The internal element, however, is more difficult. It revolves around our culture. People living in Singapore are encultured to a greater or lesser degree in the philosophies of kia. The academic system encourages competition between individuals through the perceived differentiation of elite, mundane, and bad schools, perceived differences in prestige among different higher education choices, and sharply limited places in local universities (especially for Arts students). The workplace tends to be competitive, with a glut of highly-qualified job-seekers on the market. The people around us, further, reinforce the kia ideology every time they talk about it, or engage in activities that are based on it, and seem to succeed. And mirror neurons entrench herd behaviour. The odds are against change.

The key here is to turn weaknesses into strengths. Mirror neurons are two-way; if someone else sees you do something, his mirror neurons fire. By moving to the centre of the car, one person encourages other people to move -- which probably explains why there were a few people in the centre of the car when the train moved off. And that's just the beginning.

The human creature is a thinking being. The kia philosophies are, quite literally, based on fear and avoidance of that which is feared. The opposite of fear is not so much as courage as understanding and acceptance. Soldiers assault close-range ambushes because they understand that a swift counterattack is the best means of survival, and accept the risk that remains because not doing so means certain death. This, I believe, is the basis of what we call courage -- if only at the unconscious level. In order to overcome the kia culture, it is crucial to develop the ability to assess our wants, needs, goals, objectives, fears, strengths and weaknesses, to pay more attention to growth and real gain instead of defending the ego, and to keep acting on these principles. When more and more people act this way, they influence even more people to follow these principles, leading to a paradigm shift in mindset.

External changes here can be accomplished easily enough. But internal changes, through re-programming the brain, is harder, takes longer, and is more painful. Yet it is this kind of change that drives real change, be it giving way to other passengers or abolishing slavery or granting the right to vote or running a country. The basis of real change is a change in mindset that predicates the physical generation and maintenance of new, presumably better, ideas.

But change like this starts from you.

Dare you change?

Choices

There are times in life when one has to make a choice. Should I continue my current path? Or blaze a trail of my own? The time now has come for me to make that choice, for now and the rest of my life. Among the many choices I have made surrounds my position in The Online Citizen. I've had had doubts about it for months now, but I've finally made my choice.

I am now no longer a member of The Online Citizen.

I left.

Given a choice between following someone's path and following my inner light, I would pick the latter. After three years in TOC, I've learned a few life lessons, saw a few things I couldn't have seen otherwise, and met a few extraordinary people. It was a fruitful time, but that time has passed. Now is a time for change, for endings, for rebirth. I feel it in my heart.

And on I walk, down the pathless path.

Silence

Regular readers would have noticed that I have not been updating my blog for a long time. Certainly not long enough to warrant my so-called reputation online. Now that I’m back, I feel like I owe some kind of explanation.

July was a busy month. Busy enough that I had to conserve my energies, and turn my attention to tasks that required more attention. The transition to August was a rocky one, with a series of events falling like hammer blows, one after another. The last of these events hit like lightning and put paid to who I thought I was.

When the dust settled, I cleared away some of the rubble to find myself. Eventually I saw myself in a mirror darkly, an image that stretched from the present to my childhood, cast in a stark light. For that glimpse I paid with my old writing voice.

For hours and days and weeks I stared at a succession of blank screens. Nothing came out. What I squeezed from my brain I had to discard. The well of words ran dry.

No, it's not all that bad. Truth be told, after what I've done, I’ve felt better in the past fornight than the past decade. But that's cold comfort for a writer who cannot write, who has exhausted the words in his pen.

I can no longer write the way I used to write. Most of the reasons and motivations that spurred me to write in the past are now so much dust in the wind. What is left cannot hold up a house of straw, and I'm very sure that more would be torn down in the coming days and weeks. Some of the old turns of phrase are alien, and I find myself using new ones. Change is coming.

A road has closed forever behind me. In front of me is a pathless path that disappears into the dark. It is a path that I will have to forge alone, with nothing but a lamp of inner light for guidance through long and uncertain years. I dare not look for others when I have yet to cast a calm eye within. Perhaps I will find myself in this new silence. Failing that, I will remake myself in the gentle dark.

Taking A Stand

A new generation of Nominated Members of Parliament (NMPs) has been chosen. Their mission statement is still the same: represent a wider variety of views inside Parliament. NMPs are supposed to be ‘people who have independent, non-partisan, constructive views of their own’, according to Leader of the House Mah Bow Tan in today’s Today newspaper. To champion causes outside of Parliament may ‘cause an NMP to lose his standing as an objective and impartial NMP and undermine his effectiveness and credibility’.

This all sounds well and good, until one looks up the meaning of ‘non-partisan’. To be non-partisan is to have no formal affiliation with any political party. And NMPs, by their very definition, are non-partisan. They are not affiliated with any political party in any official capacity. By this I mean that they are not card-carrying members of any political party, nor do they represent any political party in any capacity.

This definition could, strictly speaking, extend to special interest groups. These are groups which advocate political change, be it lower taxes or animal rights. But remember that the operating word is ‘formal’. This means that a non-partisan person must not be serving in the group in any kind of capacity, be it as a member or spokesperson or director. It does not mean that the person is not allowed to speak out in favour of the group, and help to represent the group’s interests in public institutions like Parliament. So there is no problem here for NMPs so long as they do not take up a post in a special interest group.

The definition of ‘non-partisan’ may even be extended to unbiased by, or not influenced by, other groups. This may be the level at which Mah is talking about. But in practice, it is very difficult. The role of an NMP is to represent views in Parliament. This means that the NMP must first learn and understand the views held by various groups, But in so doing, he is already influenced by these views.
That is because he would have taken the time to analyse and think through what these views are, and their worth in the public arena, and whether or not they are worth his time’s or the House’s. This thought process leads to a judgment on what these views mean to the NMP as well, if only on a subconscious level…which effectively means that the views espoused by certain groups, be they advocacy groups or otherwise, would influence the NMP in the course of his work.

So, if Mah were referring to this level of ‘non-partisan’, ‘objectivity’ and whatnot, he would be asking NMPs to make an impossible choice. If they choose to remain objective and ‘non-partisan’, they cannot afford to investigate the views held by various groups, which means that they cannot effectively represent their views, which means that they might as well quit and go home. If they choose to represent the views of these groups, they would be indelibly influenced by these groups’ opinions, which means that they would have violated the ‘non-partisan’ guideline.

In my personal opinion, at most we should restrict ‘non-partisan’ to ‘not officially affiliated with any political party of special interest group’. To go any deeper would be to make the NMPs’ jobs impossible. It is this definition I would be working from in the rest of this essay.

Let’s pause for a moment to consider why politicians raise views in Parliament or wherever in the first place. They do this to tell their colleagues about the situation on the ground. By doing so, they aim to implement policies that are connected with the people, and can hopefully benefit the country. Am effective law is preceded by a motion in Parliament that is informed by an opinion. This train cannot be decoupled for it to be effective. NMPs, in particular, represent views in Parliament so that Parliament can better decide on policies, and these views are best summarized and represented in the form of a motion to be brought before Parliament for discussion.

Now consider a scenario in which an NMP chooses to support or champion a cause outside of Parliament, such as the repeal of Section 377A. Because he is an NMP, he is seen as operating by his conscience, without following the agenda of any specific political party. He lends the voice of officially-recognised objectivity and impartiality to the cause, whether he wants to or not.

Even if the NMP were to participate in his capacity as a private citizen, he would be participating in the realm of politics, and in this situation, he cannot escape from his position and identity as an NMP. He will be seen as an NMP first, a citizen second. Even if he were to declare that he is acting in his personal capacity, and if people accept that, the fact that he is an NMP would not be ignored. For example, said NMP may be pressured to bring up the cause in Parliament by everybody else, because of his unique position. To refuse to do so is to give up a unique and unparalleled advantage to do good for society. It would be akin to favouring to follow a set of guidelines instead of favouring an approach to accelerate positive change by bringing up an issue to the national level. To say nothing of doing his job in the first place, which is to represent views in Parliament, like representing the view that Section 377A should be abolished and favouring and tabling a motion to do just that. In politics, opinions only count if they are translatable into actions, such as tabling a motion. Otherwise, giving lengthy speeches on a subject in Parliament without tabling a motion would merely, at best, pique somebody else’s attention.

What if the situation takes place outside of Parliament’s purview? For example, the recent history of the Association of Women for Action and Research took place without official government intervention. NMP Siew Kum Hong was there, acting in his personal capacity.

The simple fact is, NMPs who participate in external activities are also seen as NMPs first, especially if they do so in politically-charged events. Simply declaring that they are there in their personal capacity would not so easily erase the impression that they are NMPs, in pretty much the same way that a convicted murderer cannot wash off the blood on his hands simply by saying that he didn’t kill anyone. Simply by being at any political event, whether or not the Government chooses to intervene, an NMP would raise its profile, because he would be seen as an NMP first, and this thought would influence everybody’s actions and perspectives. More so if he were reported being there, or admits that he was there in various media. Simply by being there, an NMP would change the atmosphere, perspective, and profile of any group engaging in some activity, be it a rally or a conference.
Instead of downplaying this effect, the smart move would be to capitalize on it. NMP activists would be able to use their position to effect greater change in Singapore. While their official purpose is to represent a wider variety of views in Parliament, these views if accepted would translate into changes in policies. It is inescapable in an arena where an opinion is only taken seriously if it were backed by a motion to change existing law, or if it is opposing an existing motion. When it comes to Parliament, NMPs effectively have the same powers in a debate as an MP except for voting on the amendment of the Constitution, public funds, a vote of no-confidence, or removing the President from office. Since these are not pertinent issues in the foreseeable future, NMPs are effectively non-elected MPs who should represent wider views from the community…which, by its very definition, includes motions towards political action.

Mah has stated that all of this might cause an NMP to lose his standing and undermine his effectiveness. Actually, the reverse is true. If an NMP were seen actively refraining from participating in the political arena, he would be seen as abdicating the responsibilities of his job. An NMP’s job is to represent views from the wider community, in order to benefit the country. This includes views from activist groups. An NMP would not do the group justice if all he does is to talk to the leaders. He would not be able to guage what kind of support the people have for the group, and the nature of the group if he does not attend their talks and rallies; and yet if he does so he would effectively raise the group’s profile simply by being there. If an NMP does not take the effort to fully understand a group, especially one whose pet cause he believes in, he cannot do them justice in Parliament, where he executes his official duties. Thus, his effectiveness and credibility would be undermined.

As for Mah’s concerns about objectivity and impartiality, we need to understand why these values in the first place. Objectivity and impartiality means to not take a stand, regardless of the consequences, positive or negative, of doing so. They ensure that someone would not be unduly biased in his or her work. The key word is ‘unduly’.

Negotiators, counselors, and mediators are expected to be objective and impartial, because they need to understand all sides of any particular issue and successfully reconcile all parties involved. They cannot afford to be partial towards any one view because doing so would mean ignoring in part or whole the concerns of other parties involved. Right up to the end of each case, they need to be objective and impartial, so that everybody involved has a fair say.

So what about objectivity and impartiality? The key difference between the world of the negotiator and the world of the politician is that the former facilitates people in taking action, while the latter takes action for people. The mediator has to be objective and impartial because he is not directly influenced by the negotiation process. A marriage counsellor, for example, would not be affected whether or not his clients divorce or continue to stay married. The politician has to be objective and impartial while considering views, but this stops when he is expressing his view.

Yes, his view, not everybody’s view. When the politician takes in the views of his constituents, or when the NMP thinks through the views of various groups in the community, the people’s views become a part of his views on any given situation. This is because during the analysis of any particular view, that view becomes assimilated into the politician’s frame of mind, or rejected.

For example, a politician may support zero tolerance policies primarily because it sends a strong deterrent message to criminals. After speaking to citizen activists, he learns that zero tolerance policies also saves millions of man-hours and dollars annually that would have been lost to crime. When he speaks to his colleagues and opponents, he now uses both arguments. He has to, in order to win over more people who may not be as convinced of the policies’ deterrence value as he is.

The same holds true even if he decides to understand an opposing view. An American pro-gun politician may take the time to understand his gun control opponents. The politician thinks that the right to bear arms is a Constitutional right, while his opponents fear that criminals would be able to arm themselves more effectively without any measures. By understanding these concerns, the politician would be able to know where his opponents are coming from when he addresses them in Congress, Senate, City Hall, or wherever. This knowledge forms part of his view on firearms as a direct consequence.

Similarly, when an NMP represents the views of a group, in or outside Parliament, these views must become part of his views. He talks about them because he thinks that they have a point to make that would benefit the country.

One of the keys to a successful message is consistency. You cannot throw up opposing arguments in a speech without addressing or reconciling them and hope to be seen as effective, if your mission is to represent a view. An NMP may try to talk about opposing arguments in or outside Parliament, but unless he is giving a primer on the situation he would not achieve anything significant, like passing legislature to improve the country. Having NMPs do just that would be a poor use of manpower and talent; Parliament could simply invite an expert into the building to brief everybody on the situation instead of letting an NMP use up his valuable speech time in Parliament to talk about the situation instead of moving towards change. Our NMPs have stated that they want to see some kind of change in Singapore. This means taking a consistent stand. This means being partisan.

Outside Parliament, the NMP would have to maintain that stance. They cannot afford to promote the opposing view in the hopes of being ‘objective’, because it would compromise their effectiveness in and out of Parliament. Championing a cause would reinforce the consistency of that stance, even outside Parliament, which means a greater effect inside Parliament, which means change in Singapore. Of course, the moment they become officially associated with that cause, such as being an official spokesperson or favouring it above other duties, they cease being NMPs. But there is still plenty of leeway in this regard.

The negotiator helps people make a decision, while the politician helps people by effecting legislature. The difference between them is context. The negotiator is working in a place where concerned parties address each other, aided by the negotiator. In this world, the view of, say, the Israelis on an independent Palestine is not the same as the view of the negotiator, whose view is simply to get the Israeli and Palestinian delegations to reach a compromise. The politician is working in a place where his fellows address each other. In this world, the view of a politician is seen as his view, not necessarily the view of the people he represents. This even extends to NMPs. The NMP, after all, is raising views in his view that would benefit society.

This is not to say that there is no place for objectivity. The NMP must be objective when gathering the views of the people, doing research, and understanding any countercurrents. This is the only way he is able to understand the breadth and depth of any given issue. But in Parliament, when speaking, he is no longer objective. He is talking about what he thinks would benefit society, which takes away all notions of objectivity. After all, to be objective is to not take a side, regardless of the consequences of doing so.

This is the place for objectivity and impartiality for NMPs. But NMPs are politicians, whose job is to decide on policies for the country. This means taking a stance at some point in time, or being sidelined forever. It is impossible to be an objective and impartial politician, but it is when you are simply gathering information. This should be the standard all politicians should hold themselves to for objectivity and impartiality. To do more would be akin to hunting dragons up a tree. To do less would mean dishonouring the people of Singapore.

Mah also said that NMPs should not be activists because doing so is ‘not in line with the objective of the NMP scheme, which is to provide more non-partisan views in the House’. To be perfectly blunt, ‘non-partisan views’ are the views of citizens, who are informed by partisan groups (the Government, activist groups, etc.)…which means that non-partisan views are partisan views. A truly non-partisan view comes from someone who has been living in isolation in a dark cave for the past decade or so, because that someone would be untouched by all the groups out there spreading information about anything. But that kind of view is both uninformed and irrelevant in today’s context.

The objective of the NMP scheme should be to provide more views in the House. These views could then be accounted for in future and existing policies, to better benefit the country. If Mah were referring to this, then NMPs should still be allowed to champion causes outside of Parliament without being partisan. This would have the effect of reinforcing the message of that cause and strengthening its influence in Parliament. This would mean that Parliament would have to understand this message and this cause while considering legislation, and take it into account.
But this does not mean surrendering to that message. If, for example, an NMP decides to advocate for a group that believes in stopping all immigration and closing off Singapore, and that group somehow becomes a strong voice in Parliament, Parliament still does not have to pass legislation that stops immigration and turns Singapore into an isolationist state. Before legislation is passed, it must be debated upon in Parliament in order to consider all points of view, and to accept and reject useful and harmful ideas respectively. While this means taking the isolationists’ message into account, it does not automatically mean passing a law that turns Singapore isolationist. But since NMPs have to go through a vetting process, and are recommended by the communities they live and work in, I would think that such a scenario is unlikely to begin with.

An NMP is merely an MP who is supposed to represent other views in Parliament and with diminished powers. The objective of raising these views is to bring about better legislation and other changes to better serve the people of Singapore. But in order to do this, the NMP cannot be objective and impartial all the time. At some point, he has to take a stand, or be ignored -- along with the people he is supposed to represent. I hope that our new MPs are able to understand this, and act accordingly. And that Mah understands just what his words really mean.

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